The Writer, Kwame Agyemang Berko
You have tried
And you have cried.
All for our sakes
But for these illiterate mistakes?
That which we continue to cry?
Not knowing why we must continue to try?
Mother, Ghana has betrayed you
And still make nonsense of your toils
like we make of the morning dew
Plus the impunity with which we discard your good intended foils,
And just take for granted why you died on the cross
For our independence and act like the dross
Even of all nations
Who are yet to find their feet as decolonized nations.
Mother, we have sinned and continue to sin.
Our complexes are grey-haired and trashy like it dwells in some bin,
Like we have for the fifty-nine years lived on gin,
Like our sovereignty was some bubble deflated by some pin,
Like your coast was never of Gold but of tin,
And so have fallen short of your glory?
I mean these scenes of our Ghana are so gory.
And our entire lives have grown so sorry
That leadership believes our concerns are best labeled A Story.
And expect of us to shut up and be content with its tso Lorry.
Maybe there is a good reason
Why we live in this bad season,
Where betrayal and denial rhyme
As if they are the précis our chime
in a single doomed sentence.
Maybe, betrayal and denial highlight the gross pretense
That our series of just plain dumb sequences
Are bound to serve as proof of our dire consequences.
It is so bad that we pit you and this Ghana together
As if we missed out altogether,
When all the gods decreed to put us asunder.
Is there anyway you could put us on your wings or under?
Like a mother duck would do her geese and gander?
And take us where we were in the beginning so we ponder?
As part of this apology we render?
In spite of our having drifted yonder?
By Kwame Agyemang Berko